survival – Page 2 – Running Forward…My Way

It has been six months since you left us.

It has been six months since I last held your hand or looked into your brown eyes.

It has been six months since your body just couldn’t fight anymore.

It’s has been six months since I had to give up the dream that you were going to recover and that we were going to be able to put this nightmare behind us.

It’s been six months since I walked out of the hospital for the last time.

Within the past six months, I have probably felt every emotion possible.

I have felt anger. Not at you, but at the situation. That this had to happen. That our daughter will grow up without you. And at God for taking you from me. Who does he think he is?

I have felt relieved that you are not in pain anymore. Wherever you are now has to be better than the ICU. I am also relieved because as you were dying, I was afraid that I was going to remember you as you were in that hospital bed. But I remember you as the person you were when you were full of life.

I have felt numb and unable to deal with certain tasks. Dealing with those tasks would be admitting that you really are gone.

I have felt helpless because you did so much. How can I do all of this without you?

I have felt fearful. I am the only parent left to take care of our daughter. What if something happens to me? How am I going to be a Mom and a Dad to our daughter?

I have felt guilt. Did I do everything I could? Did I miss something? Was there something that could have kept you alive that I somehow missed?

I have felt frustrated. Taking care of our daughter by myself is tough. I miss having you as my co-parent.

I feel empty every night as I sit at home by myself without you to talk to. I feel empty every night when I go to sleep alone. I miss you every day.

I have felt lonely because your death and absence leaves a huge void in my life. I miss you so much that it hurts. I miss our conversations. I miss watching TV with you. I miss emailing back and forth with you trying to figure out what to do for dinner. You truly were my other half and my best friend.

I have felt happy because you left some great memories. I love it when friends share funny stories about you. You might be gone, but you still find a way to make us laugh.

I have felt comfort because I know that at some level you are still with me and you will continue to look out for me and our daughter from above.

I have felt grateful that you chose me to be by your side even if it was for a short time. I am grateful for the love that you gave me. I am grateful for everything that you have taught me and I am grateful for our life together.

I have lost my faith. I used to think God loved me but not anymore. And I think he is kind of a jerk. I used to believe in happy endings but my “Happily Ever After” has been taken away. I no longer believe in happy ends or miracles.

I have felt despair because I will not get to grow old with you and that our daughter will not remember you. Why did this have to happen? I have a hard time with the fact that you will not get to watch our daughter grow up. She has already grown up so much since you got sick. Who is going to take her to the Father-Daughter dance? Who is going to walk her down the aisle when she gets married? I know you left behind many great friends who are willing to be positive male role models for her and will be there for her and I am grateful for that. But sometimes I still think it is unfair because it is supposed to be you that was supposed to do all of those things.

I have learned that I am a lot stronger than I have ever given myself credit for. I am a survivor.

I have had moments where I am about to call or text you but then I remember that you are not here. I can’t ask you that question or tell you that story. There is so much that I want to tell you. Your phone will go straight to voicemail. Because I can’t bring myself to call the phone company and disconnect your number. It’s just easier to pay the bill as I have been. And speaking of phones, my phone is acting possessed and I don’t have you to fix it.

Some of your clothes are still hanging up in the closet. Others are in bags but I can’t bring myself to bring them to goodwill.

You meant so much to so many people and you accomplished so much in your short life. And you were only just beginning. I can’t help but wonder what you would have accomplished if you were given the 80+ years on this planet that you should have had. There were so many dreams and plans that you had for yourself and for our family. Dreams that will be unfulfilled.

I am still trying to make sense of what happened and trying to accept that I will probably never make sense of it. Why this had to happen? We think we control our lives but at the end of the day, we can only control so much. We just have to do the best with what we have at any given time. I am trying to accept that all of this had to happen for some reason but I don’t know what that reason is. Whatever that reason is, it is just hard to accept that you had to die for it.

I am sad because you are gone. But also because I am starting to get used to you being gone. Every time I throw something away, even if it is something like your holey socks, that is another piece of you that is gone. But I know I can’t keep your holey socks around. My emotions feel less raw but they are still there. At times I feel like I can more forward, without you here. This makes me feel guilty. You are supposed to be here with me. I didn’t plan on having to go it alone at this stage of my life. We were supposed to be forever and always. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you and that is not going to happen but I get a little comfort knowing that you spent “the rest of your life” with me.

Since I joined the Widows Club last August and even since I started this blog last month, many people have approached me about friends of theirs who have become young widows. (Nothing against the guys but there seems to be a lot more of us younger widows. I hear that the statistics back that up but I am too lazy to research it.) It breaks my heart that so many people have been joining the club that no one wants to be a part of. I am about five and a half months into my widowhood and I wanted to give some unsolicited advice, widow to widow(er).

First of all, I am sad that you are part of this club. You have just lost the love of your life, your best friend, other half, soulmate and partner in crime. I don’t know the circumstances whether it was a long illness or a sudden accident but either way, it isn’t fair. None of this makes sense. You were supposed to grow old together. Grief is rough regardless of who you lose but you will probably find that this is the worst grief you have ever had. Whether your spouse may have died suddenly or been sick but there is nothing to prepare you for this. My husband was sick for five months and came close to dying several times and I still wasn’t prepared for it. I thought I was but I wasn’t. Nothing can prepare you for the void you are going to be feeling.

You may not want to get out of bed. You may not want to shower. You may not be able to sleep. You may need to be told where to sit and when to eat. You may forget things. This is called “Widow Fog” and it is real. My parents and I spent an hour looking for my phone only to find that I had put it in the fridge. I am sure I must have had a good reason for that.

You might hear a lot of about stages of grief. It is total B.S. First off, the emotions of denial, anger, bargaining, desperation and acceptance are only a fraction of the emotions you will feel and those feelings will not come packaged to you in perfect little stages. You will probably have periods where you feel numb as well as periods where you feel every emotion at the same time. You may feel emotions you never knew existed. There is no textbook process of grief. This will be unique to you.

Don’t listen to people who tell you how to grieve. You will grieve in your own way, on your timeline. You can wear your rings for as long as you want and there is no rush to clean your spouse’s clothes out of the closet.

People are going to say things that don’t make sense and may upset you. Just remember that people mean well. They want to help the situation but they don’t know the right words. So if their words upset you, just try to remember that. I know right now you don’t care if “this is part of God’s plan” or that “you will find love again” or that “you should be thankful for what you have” and you know very well that sometimes God does give you more than you can handle. There might be truth to those words (except that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. I vehemently disagree with that one), people don’t understand that that isn’t what you need to hear right now.

Widowhood is lonely. In addition to losing your spouse, your friends that have been checking up on you will thin out as time passes. They might see you and think you are doing okay. They may think you need your space. They might not know what to say or do. They may be afraid to bring up your spouse in conversation because they will be afraid it will make you sad.

For the friends that do stay around, take comfort and spend time with them. Try to engage as much as possible. Try not to isolate yourself. Remember that those friends are grieving your spouse too.

Grief shopping is a real thing. I know I got too familiar with Target and Amazon Prime. Santa may have taken his grief out on Amazon this year but my daughter didn’t seem to mind. It was to numb my emotions and it is important to not let it get out of hand. This goes the same for other destructive behaviors. Do what you need to do to take the edge off but just make sure you are still taking care of yourself and those around you.

You will feel like you are going through the motions. I still feel this way. But many experienced widows have told me that you need to fake it until you make it. Continue living your life and someday you will be happy again. Again, I haven’t gotten there yet but I am trying because I figure it is better than letting life pass by.

Seek out others who have gone through this. There are tons of groups on Facebook. There are also a lot of books written by widows and you can get many of them used for a penny on Amazon (with $3.99 shipping.) I read as many as I could get my hands on because I wanted an idea of what to expect.

It is okay to cry and scream. It is okay to smile and laugh. It’s okay to pamper yourself. It’s okay to spend time doing things you enjoy. It is okay to not be okay. It is okay to let people know you are not okay. I know that one is easier said than done. I am one of those people who feels that I have reassure everyone that I am okay even when I am not.

If it is all too much to handle, it is okay to see a grief counselor or therapist.

You are going to feel lost. You were part of a couple, a unit. Now you need to figure out who you are as an individual. I imagine this is a long process as I am still figuring it out. Don’t be afraid to try new hobbies or pursue new interests.

And lastly, you will never look at the world the same way again. You will learn not to take certain things for granted. While the world will be a sadder place, you will see more beauty in it.